


A Little Common Sense

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-27
Updated: 2008-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-18 00:50:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, knowing who to send is more useful than going yourself. Or, cops and ex-cops having a conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Continuity: Nightwing book, post Hunt for Oracle, pre him losing his job  
> 

Slade looked at the number he'd punched into his phone from Jesse's database, considering just deleting it and giving up on the thought... But with what he'd heard from Scoops and his few minutes in the Haven, the Kid needed someone he might listen to about what he was trying to do, and where it _was_ going to end. He'd watched one ally kill himself trying to work both sides of the law already. Which meant the only person he could as to step into this... was someone that wasn't going to want to talk to him at all. He took a long breath, and hit send, waiting.

"Hmmm...hello?" Pat had noted the lack of caller ID, and she played it casual, letting none of her paranoia come through the line.

"Pat--don't hang up." He didn't have a lot of hope that she wouldn't, but it was worth the try. His other option was going to be actually going to her, and that... was likely to end poorly.

Despite his words, maybe because of them, she very nearly did so. "I'm pretty damn sure I told you just where you could go, but if you need a reminder, Slade--"

"And I'm not calling for my sake, Pat. I know you don't want anything to do with me." //I don't blame you for it,// he thought, remembering how badly he'd sometimes treated her.

"Not your... Wintergreen? What happened? I _told_ you to quit dragging him into..." She was even angrier at the thoughts that had sprung to mind.

"He's all right. Working on his book, more than anything, these days." He kept his regret at that out of his voice--she'd been right, when she said Wintergreen was getting too old to run fully at his side now. Much as it hurt, that was a pain he was going to have to get used to. But no damned sooner than he had to. "Remember Grayson?"

"The Kid." Pat remembered...that kid was one more piece in the 'was Slade gay at times?' puzzle that had bothered her for years.

"Yeah. The Kid. He's working on getting himself in way over his head. For some damned reason, he's running days as a Haven cop, and nights as himself. You and I both know where that's going to go, Pat."

Pat considered it for a long moment. She could have tried that tack, maybe, but she knew it would have blown up. It was easier to just be Vigilante. "I'll look into it, Slade, but only because the 'Haven's a shit hole that probably needs me looking closer."

"Pat... Talk to him? Before he winds up dead?" He didn't have to say 'like Adrian', 'like you nearly did' to her for her to hear it, he knew damned well. No, the Kid wouldn't suicide, but the double life would kill him just as fast as it had Vigilante, one way or another.

"I said I'd go, Slade. Don't push me." Her voice was little better than a growl, all hot anger and past mistakes, always so close to the surface when they met.

"Thank you, Pat." He listened a moment, waiting.

He got the resounding click he probably expected, while Pat stared into the mirror across the room. "He tells you not to get personal. That man is so fucking personal... goddammit." She got up, started packing, and made arrangements to be free for the week.

Slade closed the phone against the whine of the dial tone, sighing quietly in relief as that was taken care of. Pat had a thousand reasons not to like him, but she might get somewhere with the Kid's stubborn will. She'd been on both sides of that... and had a few object lessons to impart, too. If she could just get past hating him to do right by one of Adrian's friends.

*~*~*~

Pat could walk as a civilian without trouble... that didn't mean she did it often, not here, not so close to Gotham. Her gear was on, underneath a long coat that she flipped the collar up on, and a cap over her close-cropped blonde hair did more yet to hide her. Bludhaven had been Crime Alley grown too large for far too long for her to want to be unprotected while she was in it. She would spend the day getting a few questions answered, figure out where the brat was likely to be patrolling later on in the night. That would be best, she figured, to preserve the pretense she had no idea who Nightwing really was.

It wasn't all that hard for her to slide through the 'Haven underworld, her Gotham accent and knowledge played well in her hands. From what she got, it sounded like he was making irregular sweeps, varying the pattern across the city, but... there were certain high-traffic areas he couldn't help being in regularly, and the one along the harbor's southern side was the worst of the lot right now.

The more she listened, the hotter her Gotham-born fury at OrgCrime burned. The south side of the harbor was the worst because one of the gangs didn't want to give way to Blockbuster's rule... She wasn't all that impressed to see the city under sway of just one crime boss, for the most part, but at least that made life a little safer for the citizens, in some ways. She would be able to go and check that area out, maybe see how much chaos she could throw in the ring too. She didn't mind helping disrupt that control a little more. And if it let her talk with the brat and get out of town, that was the bonus in the deal.

*~*~*~

Late into that night, sure enough, she picked up the sounds of another fight down one alley, this one serious enough to have brought the guns out. She'd found a few to throw her hand in on already, but this sounded different... She moved into position, sighting in on the thick of the fight, intent on making a difference. It was what she did, after all.

The thick of the fight was centered on one black-and-blue hero, dodging and weaving through the pair of gangs that had apparently already been brawling, barely avoiding the shots ringing his way, sticks in either hand being put to wicked use.

"Great. It's him," Pat muttered under her breath. She switched her focus, aiming in on the gun-holders, choosing shoulder shots for the most part.

Nightwing swore mentally as the fight changed around him with the muffled sounds of the shots, //Oh, great, who showed up to help packing heat?//

One thought flicked through his mind, but he wouldn't have bothered with a silencer, and hadn't been around in a while... At least, not on _his_ side. He did have to admit that it was a hell of a lot easier to wrap up the fight with the most dangerous half of them clutching at shoulders and arms and screaming or whimpering in pain. Whoever'd been taking the shots was good, he noticed. None of the wounds were going to turn lethal, which he was grateful for as he got all of them restrained in one way or another. //At least for the night.// The thought was more bitter than he liked as he started to make the jumps for the roof. That they'd be out in under 48 hours no matter the weapons charges burned under his skin.

Vigilante saw the kid move, and she calculated how to get ahead of him. She hadn't been Deathstroke's partner for nothing after all, without learning to keep up with that son of a bitch. After that? Keeping up with one human kid wasn't all that hard in comparison.

He got himself up to the roof, then several buildings over and stopped to check himself over. The fight had gotten a little wild, there for a bit, and adrenaline didn't always let him notice what shape he was in... but everything seemed to be fine.

"Kid... seems like you and me need to have a talk." Pat let her voice carry from a safe distance away, waiting for his attention to center on her. She wasn't about to get too close to a hero that touchy.

He whipped around, and if it hadn't been for the feminine voice and the blatantly female cut of the familiar gear, the bright white-and-gold-and-blue V-emblazoned armor might have seemed a lot more ghostly. The sight was still a shock. Vigilante hadn't been seen in the US in a couple of years. He cocked his head to the side, looking at her from under the lenses. "Oh?" The long rifle slung over her back got a warily appreciative glace, "Thanks for the help, though."

"You keep doing what you are and you're going to either need to sweet talk _him_ or hire me to be around more often," the female Vigilante said, with venom wrapped around the male pronoun.

Dick snorted, letting a shade of his own personality bleed through Nightwing's detachment as he shook his head. //Hello, Pat.// "I don't need the help _that_ badly, thanks all the same. Should I even ask why _you're_ in town?"

"You can. I might even tell you, since evidently you're already running your own ass over too much to piece it together." She leaned on the air unit behind her casually. "Point blank, kid, you're three steps from a monumental screw-up."

His back went tense, half-hidden under the armor, at her words. It was the only reaction he let himself have, and facing her, it shouldn't show at all. "How do you figure that? I can handle myself. Have been for years, even."

"Yes. Nightwing. Robin before that. With a much less strenuous day job, I'm sure." She inspected her hands carefully. "You think I liked giving up my badge? No, I didn't. But I wasn't making enough of a difference. And how the hell could I break the law and still honor the badge?" She looked straight up at him, then. "Your idea of right and wrong must be more slippery than _his_ if you don't cringe."

From anyone else, that would have been the end of the conversation... but the woman that wore Vigilante's gear deserved for him to listen--she had enough experience at both sides of this. He held still as her words cut straight through every defense he'd ever thought of for what he was doing. If that was how it looked from the outside... "The Haven needs cops that aren't on Blockbuster's take if it's ever going to save itself. I'm at least that."

"So you put in ten to twelve hours in the other blue, get your butt out here and work the rest of it. When's the last time you slept more than three hours, Kid? Or had food that didn't come in a protein bar or fast food? When did you last talk to a person that doesn't live and breathe bullets and drugs for a living?" Vigilante was not impressed. "You try doing both jobs full time, you get dead. Worse, every ally you make, every snitch you find, every good cop you hook up with... they're at risk because you're going to grind down into the dirt."

He considered those questions, and the only ones he had an answer for that wouldn't just prove her point were the last--and that only because Alfred had been by to re-supply the kitchen and fuss at him and pick up the worst of the damaged armor to take away. "I eat a little better than that. And a couple of days ago."

He considered the rest of her words, thinking about Amy and the few other friends he had on the force, about the few wary allies he had in the underground... And while he was in great physical shape from how hard he ran, he couldn't argue--much as he wanted to--that his mental acuity was slipping a little, more than the rookie mistakes he'd faked on scenes... a couple of them hadn't been faked. He was pushing himself to the limits of what every concentration exercise could do for him, let alone what the payment he was eventually going to have to give the stimulants he was pushing Bruce's limits on taking was going to be.

"Kid... pick one or the other... or other people wind up dead. You want to stick around when you get someone killed? 'Cause if so, maybe you and me ought to swap costumes...."

Despite the mask, she knew he could see it as his eyes closed and he fought down the flinch that brought. "No, I don't want that. But this city needs help on both sides of the fence, too. Tell me she doesn't."

"She needs a hit squad, Kid," Vigilante said bluntly. "But if I had to lay money...I'd tell you clean cop ain't going to cut it no matter how you try. No justice if that many cops are crooked... because the prosecutors, the DA's, the judges... they're crooked too. Your federal friend would have better luck pulling the legal racket."

"I still can't find the right angle to _get_ CBI or the DEA in, despite how bad they want him, I just can't get to the information they need." The frustration forced the words out of him. He hadn't wanted to hear it, hadn't wanted to admit that he wasn't, couldn't, hadn't made the difference the city needed so badly on either side of what he was doing... He still didn't want to. But... he couldn't ignore the truth in her words, either.

"So you, arguably the most well-connected hero in this racket, decide, "let's pretend I'm two men, work both sides of the law, and beat it all on my fucking own"?" She could not help the roll of her eyes. "God, you and _he_ deserve each other."

He glared at her at that, his head snapping up to glare full at her, and the look on his face didn't do a thing to prove her wrong. He forced the hot words he wanted to say down, swallowing them back before he could get the Bat thrown in his face as well. Slade's ex was enjoying being able to throw him in his face too much already, he didn't need the Gotham ex-cop joining in with what she thought of the Bat, as well. He shrugged a shoulder slightly, thought about it, and gritted his teeth a moment before he opened his mouth again. Time to prove he _wasn't_ prey to the weakness they both shared. "All right. I've been being an idiot, you're right."

Pat had to take a moment to regroup after that shocking admission. //Kid's smarter than you, but that don't take much,// she thought acidly at her absent ex. "So what do you do about it?"

"Give me a minute, would you? Admitting I'm wrong doesn't set all that easy," Dick said, a rueful smile on his lips. "But obviously, using that 'most-well-connected' bit would probably be a real good idea."

"Yep. Get players in the game that can blend, and a couple who don't for distraction," Vigilante offered.

He gave her another wry, slow smile, and shook his head. "I have planned ops before... so what did bring you to town, and were you planning on sticking around?"

She snorted at him. "I only told _him_ I was coming over to talk. It's up to you to make me an offer from here."

"Vigilante ought to throw a pretty good shake into some of the thugs," he admitted. She'd cut a swathe in Gotham, once or twice. "Care to discuss the rest of this somewhere not quite so uncomfortable? Or exposed?" he looked up at the false-dawn reflecting off the smog-thick clouds. //Damn it, Slade, what the hell?// considering that the last time he'd seen the man it had been a flash of those colors as Black Canary walked as Oracle onto a plane for Gorilla City...

"Your place or mine, Kid?" She asked with just enough slide to remind the boy of just what kind of woman typically caught Slade's eye.

He tossed his head back at that, chuckling softly at the way her voice played--god, it felt good, no matter the reason--and his smile widened a little further. He could no more resist rising to that challenge than he could any other. "Well, unless you've got bedrock to rafter maps of most of town at your place," //wherever it is,// "I think we'd better head for mine..."

Vigilante smiled under the goggles she wore, pleased despite herself that the young punk could still laugh. She might hate Slade, but it would be a shame to let a guy who looked that cute with his heart in the right place let his idiocy get the better of him.

He had no idea what pushed him to do it, but he looked sideways at her with a cock of his head, "Think you can keep up with me?"

"Honey, I can beat _him_ to a target half the time." //He still usually gets it, bastard, but I get there first.//

Dick let a wicked smile flash across his lips and spoke, "Not to hear him tell it." He launched himself off the building and into a full flight across the city before the words faded, headed for his primary satellite nest.

Pat gave chase, an adept mover in the jungle of rooftops and alleyways. She had lots of tricks to compensate, relying as much on wits as strength or speed. She really wasn't sure just how this would turn out, yet, but she was pretty sure she could figure out how to turn it to her profit in the long run. At the very least by having both the brat and _him_ owing her one.


	2. Remember To Say Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pat is amused

Pat watched the kid sleeping in the bed... okay, so he wasn't really a kid. She bet he was maybe only a decade her junior. He certainly had enough talent, in and out of bed, to keep up with her.

She wondered just what Slade would think of it, if he knew that unwinding the kid's life had led to unwinding him personally. It made her smirk, and nearly laugh. As she laid back down along his side, half over him, she made plans to send a bottle of champagne to the house in Kenya. 

It was too good a prod to miss at her ex.


End file.
